


You're the One that I Want

by Destini Islands (Destini)



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Scent Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24126298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destini/pseuds/Destini%20Islands
Summary: A gift for Otomeran! Thank you for the request!Check out their Mystic Messenger AU!“I-is this how you cheer people up?”“Just you. Is it working?”Yes, it is, and you hate it.“No…”“That’s fine, because that’s not the purpose of why I’m doing this.”He punctuates it by letting go of your waist and spinning you to face him on the bed. A hand hooks under your chin, thumb strong in its demand for you to look at his intense, gray eyes and pointer finger kind in its caress of your bottom lip.“Then why?”“Because I need you to realize that you’re the only one that I want.”
Relationships: Han Jumin/Original Character(s), Han Jumin/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83
Collections: Destini's Zines and Gifts





	You're the One that I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otomeRan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otomeRan/gifts).



Jumin checks his silver watch as he approaches home. There is much to do this weekend - extra paperwork from C&R, the RFA phone conference, and planning with you, his beloved Ran, for the twins’ birthday party. Jumin smiles when he thinks about the last deed, his sunlight swept hair bouncing when he gives a casual nod to the penthouse doorman.

He doesn’t think himself an impatient man, but Jumin’s dress shoes tap the tile and he can feel every bump of the elevator as if it’s slowing down with each passing floor. Even the opening doors dally, overheated by the smoldering breath of summer, and it’s enough to drive him mad.

 _Ran_.

Jumin’s sure the guards greeted him but he doesn’t remember. They’re afterthoughts to him punching in the passcode and exhaling when he’s finally back inside the air-conditioned loft. He expects to see you upon entering - his deity, beautiful brown eyes like pools of warm amber locked on him.

_Ran?_

You’re not here and neither are the cats.

He puffs out air. There must be a reason. Jumin’s eyes survey the living room and take in how you must’ve spent your day working from home. There’s an indent nearly disappeared from the couch, the barely-there fragrance of wine and pasta decorating the kitchen, and a newspaper still lying open on the kitchen counter.

It’s the paper he ultimately chooses to approach, drawn to the wrinkled edges and the way it sits sloppily on the edge, eagerly waiting for a small mistake to make it slide to the floor. One finger pushes it back to the center before he’s scanning the contents. Something is here, something is wrong.

He finds that something fairly quickly, eyes narrowing when they see Rika’s face next to his at the centerpiece of a column. It’s a throwaway local piece but the damage is done. In that single panel, the world has stopped turning, its cruel gaze singling out that Jumin - somehow - can do better than Ran.

 _Not again_ , Jumin thinks, _not this again_.

There’s only brief details scribbled about the RFA heads, conveniently forgetting that Jumin started the RFA for you and that V and Rika are engaged, but conveniently knowing Rika’s weight and that her arbitrary social standing is higher than yours.

The column is a gossip fluff piece comparing you to Rika, with every line and every insult stabbing into his heart and patience. More elegant, thinner, richer, ‘better’ - useless opinions that have no place in polite society. They should - and would - be sued for this. The newspaper is promptly destroyed, its wrinkles building in his fists until it’s become nothing but a ball he throws into the garbage where it belongs.

He drops his briefcase and speedwalks to your bedroom, shoving open the door and finally finding you.

“Ran?”

His words don’t reach you at first, slowed and swallowed by the darkness of the half-lights that illuminate where you lay on their bed, still dressed in a white sweater and slacks. He hasn’t seen you like this in a while - a heavy air of resignation like a coat of armor instead of your usual steel - and it twists something damnable inside him. He’s a cruel man to think you look gorgeous, even like this.

Your head turns toward him, somehow surprised to see him in the doorway. Jumin flicks on the lights and sees Elizabeth the Third and Luna rise from where they buried themselves in a heap of black and white against your side. He silently thanks them for being there for you when he couldn’t, watching them jump from the bed and scurry out of the room.

“Hey, Jumin. Today’s the phone conference.”

He strips himself of his suit jacket as he approaches, draping the pinstripes lazily over the side of the bed before sitting down. You scoot closer, resting your head in his lap to give him your full attention. It’s automatic - his hand threads through your snowy strands, somehow as cold as your expression. Those amber pools are more like cool stones, reflecting nothing but his worry.

“I saw the newspaper.”

He cuts to the point and frowns when you give that meager smile. It’s condescending, yet self-pitying. If it’s from the heart, it’s from the darkest places he wants to dig out of you. He tries, his other hand moving to caress your cheek before you flinch away.

You didn’t mean to.

But it’s too late. Jumin’s hand falls away from your face, the tattooed wedding band on his finger a reminder of his dedication. But what for? The newspaper was right. Rika is everything people expected Jumin Han of C&R to eventually marry. No matter how much you remove yourself from the spotlight, letting Rika and V be the spokespeople for the RFA, somehow you’ll always be dragged back to be scrutinized like a tortured shadow behind his light.

Are you heavy on Jumin’s lap? Does he secretly agree? When he kisses you, does he ever think you’re not enough, that you could be a little more pretty, a little thinner, a little more useful, just a little _more_?

“Yeah, so?” you smirk.

“So,” Jumin bites back, “you lock yourself in our room and don’t greet me when I finally return.”

“Sorry.”

You give a shrug followed by a dramatic sigh, a poor deflection based on the unamused way he stares. After a moment, you find the ceiling far easier to look at it. Jumin says nothing before he moves away from you. Perhaps he’s upset with you for still being hurt, probably assuming you’re thinking of the already ‘solved’ misunderstanding between him and Rika. Old feelings feel new again when they’re suddenly cracked upon your heart like a whip.

You hear the door shut and sit up. Before you can turn, Jumin’s hands are wrapping around your waist.

“Jumin?”

The half-hearted attempt to still move and face him is cut short when a warm pair of lips fold over your ear.

“What are you doing?”

“Surely you haven’t lost your intelligence along with your confidence?”

Your cheeks puff and your mouth moves to huffily respond to this shift from sweet to snark but instead a sharp inhale fills the air when Jumin bites down.

“I love the way you sound,” he murmurs, biting your ear again and being rewarded with an even louder gasp.

“I-is this how you cheer people up?”

“Just you. Is it working?”

 _Yes, it is, and you hate it_. “No…”

“That’s fine, because that’s not the purpose of why I’m doing this.”

He punctuates it by letting go of your waist and spinning you to face him on the bed. A hand hooks under your chin, thumb strong in its demand for you to look at his intense, gray eyes and pointer finger kind in its caress of your bottom lip.

“Then why?”

“Because I need you to realize that you’re the only one that I want.”

“I… I know that.”

“You don’t,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your troubled lips. It’s a heated kiss that’s unexpected in its fervor. Jumin’s tongue is overwhelming, its intent only to consume you, pushing you down until your head hits the soft, silky bed covers and you’re gasping for air. His arms rest near your head as if to pin you down, one leg between yours and the heat of the outside still clinging to his clothes. If the lights were still off, perhaps he’d be glowing. When he’s satisfied, Jumin’s tongue gives a final caress to yours before separating from your mouth.

He busies to your neck, lips parted as they drag down your skin so you can feel his teeth. He trails across it, teasing a bite that never comes and instead gifting you hot and tingling skin.

“What,” you gulp, remembering his statement, “makes you think I don’t know?”

Your arms wrap around his shoulders to shyly beckon him forward but he doesn’t move.

“Because if you did, you’d know what other people think of you is pointless.” He continues on, the seriousness of his statement kissed into your skin. “If I was doing a well enough job, you wouldn’t doubt that I love everything you already are.”

You squeeze him closer, the reason unclear. Maybe it’s because you want his words to be genuine, or perhaps he feels cathartic against you. But whatever the reason, you hold onto him like he’s your tether to reality.

“It’s not your fault, Jumin.”

“Then you have no qualms if I make sure that’s true?”

He bites you with gentlemanlike care, humming pleasantly into your neck when a grunt escapes your lips. Jumin continues to nip the sensitive skin, every scrape of his teeth filling your mind with conflicted emotions and your body with his affections.

“I’m telling you it’s not your fault,” you mumble. Your voice is stuck in your throat, caught there by Jumin’s sensual hold. “Rika is just-”

“No.”

He leaves your neck to kiss you harshly again, cutting you off. “I don’t think of her when I’m with you.”

His hands slide under your shirt, careful to touch every patch of skin your sides possess, touches that make you hyper-aware of everything you are. “Do you want to know what I think of when I’m with you?”

It sounds rhetorical but Jumin waits for a response. “What do you think of?”

“Of how you taste.” A caress of his tongue against yours.

“Of how you smell.” A press of his nose to your throat.

“Of how you sound.” A playful bite to your upper lip.

He presses his forehead against yours. “Of how I’m going to marry the most beautiful and wonderful woman on the planet. And…”

Jumin gives a small smile, confidence radiating in his every move. “...How I can afford to give her anything she wants.”

Your scoff is more of a laugh. It fills Jumin’s lungs like crisp air, the beginning of light in your eyes all the motivation he needs. This woman before him has made him richer than his estate ever will. You’ve burst into his life like an angel and he’ll do anything to keep you glowing.

His hands travel upwards, ready to both cherish and taint his angel. Maybe you don’t enjoy being bigger than Rika, but he’ll never understand it. Everything about you is beautiful, every soft patch of skin a piece of a map to be charted and all of your quirks things to be cherished.

The beauty mark under your right eye. He kisses it, treasures it like a new discovery.

Your cute ears, your adorable nose. He bites them, savors them like an expensive luxury.

And…

Everything else, the ‘you’ under your clothes that only he can see, is an enticement that clouds his judgment. Just like it’s doing now.

“I can’t prove how much I want you with your clothes on. Take them off.” His goal feels like it’s growing secondary to his lust for you.

“Maybe if you say please.”

“Please.”

Maybe you weren’t expecting such an automatic response, but your second of surprise is a second too long. He peels your sweater off, tosses it aside, and lets his eyes scan down your body to appreciate the heavenly art. They linger on the black bra you wear, half-heartedly hiding the large breasts that excite him more than he’s normally willing to admit.

“You’re beautiful.”

He means it. His chest tightens and his hands, every time, can’t help but make sure this repetitive dream is real. His fingers follow his eyes, ghosting over every available part of your body.

“More,” he demands. But of what? Jumin is slowly stealing everything from you anyway - your reason and your reservations. Your skin is nearly sweating from all the ways he’s already teased you tonight.

“More?” you rasp.

“Of everything. Of you.” His voice wavers, deepened to a thick growl.

He leans forward to your face but his hands wander to your bra, squeezing what he can of your large breasts through them.

“Do you think I care what people want for me when I have you?” He smirks into your lips. “When I have these in my bedroom?”

Your lover coaxes a whine from your lips from the sensation of his kneading hands on your chest, sending a shock of electricity right to your groin. They slip inside the bra to feel your skin, fingers gently twisting your nipples in that way he knows you love.

“Jumin - ah!”

“Yes, that’s right,” he teases. “Do you think I care what people want for me when I have that voice of yours, crying my name?”

His mouth trails down your chest, down your stomach, and then kisses your crotch through your pants. You sit up and he strips them off without effort or remorse as he moves down the bed until his head is between your legs.

You tremble when his hands smooth up your pale inner thighs, snapping your black panties against you but leaving them on as he presses his mouth to the fabric. He licks through them and you shiver as you look down to watch how he does it slowly and deliberately. The flat of Jumin’s tongue is teasing as it starts from bottom-to-top, taking its time to lick up the length of where your clit hides behind the barrier.

“Jeez,” you pout. “You’re killing me, Jumin.” It’s meant to sound light-hearted but it ends up being hoarse, your breath shaky as he continues to taste through the thin fabric until it’s wet with both his spit and your arousal.

“Jumin…”

“You taste so good, you smell so good,” he murmurs, each spoken word hot air against you.

“T-that can’t be tr-oh!”

He’s pulled them to the side, making good on his words by beginning to dine on you. Your hands scrunch the bedsheets and your head lolls to the side, eyes squinting as pleasure shoots through you like a rush of adrenaline. Jumin’s tongue is no longer slow as it alternates between flicking against your clit and lapping at your wet and quivering lips. He takes his time as if it’s a treat for him instead of you.

His hands tighten on your legs, holding them apart as he digs further - deeper - wanting more, _getting_ more. His entire mouth covers you, sucking while he licks and the pleasure makes your mouth hang open. You’re stuck between silent shock and screaming and your breaths come out in whiny huffs to compensate.

He suddenly pulls away and your eyes that you didn’t know had closed fly open.

Jumin is gasping, disheveled. His arms shake as they lift your legs around him and his eyes stare at you so intensely you forget how to breathe.

“Jumin?”

“How…” he gasps. “How is it possible you don’t see how much I need you? How much I crave you? There’s nothing, there’s no one else…”

He’s rambling, the shock of it sending a vicious blush to your cheeks that doesn’t go unnoticed. One of his hands leaves your leg to reach up and caress a cheek - it’s even warmer than you.

“Ran…”

He says your name like its gospel.

It is.

Jumin can’t think anymore, every breath and every movement of yours is a spell that sends his heart racing. He pulls you flush against him, his clothed crotch to your panties as your back hits the bed and he hovers over you.

“Please.”

“S-saying please right off the bat this time, huh?” you shakily laugh.

“Since you’re the only thing I want, I suppose it warrants one,” he smirks back.

With a quick bite of your tongue, you answer his question with action. You reach up, golden chestnut eyes not leaving his as the belt slides away and his pants unbuckle. Just the brush of skin from you pulling out his hard-on is enough to send another wave of pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, watching with a gasping mouth as your warm hand slowly pumps him. The sight of you beneath him, chest slightly moving with each movement and your flushed face, is far too much for one man to bear.

“Enough,” he groans.

He temporarily moves a hand to shove yours off of him and back into the covers. His lips quirk again when he hears the smallest of whines, reveling in how you enjoy his bouts of aggression over you. It works for him - there’s nothing feigned about his craving for you and there’s nothing he wants more than to hear you scream for him.

He strips the wet panties off, inhaling sharply when he smells how much you want him, too.

“More…”

Of _course_ he wants more. All of you is enough and yet it’s the same reason that he'll never be satiated. He grips your legs like a lifeline as he starts to push in, eyes watching the cinematic masterpiece of your every facial expression. You spread easily for him, hands twisting in the bed as you search for purchase.

“Jumin, damn…”

His name from your lips makes his cock twitch before he’s even fully in. Your warm walls clench around him and he groans. It’s almost painful the way he so desperately needs you.

“Ran, Ran…”

He says your name in turn, exhaling when he fills you to the hilt.

“Tell me, Ran…” Your eyes, fluttering, try their best to focus on him. “...Would I, Jumin Han, do something so dangerous with someone I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with?”

For the first time tonight, your strained yet sweet voice answers with what he wants to hear. “No…”

“Correct. Such answers will be rewarded.”

Jumin thrusts, one slow roll of hips quickly becoming two, becoming three, and speeding up until your choked cries are frequent calls of his name. It’s a vicious cycle, your moans exciting him to go faster and his going faster making you moan.

Your hands can’t find anywhere to go - there’s nothing to do but accept Jumin’s strong thrusts fucking into you until you’re a compliant, screaming mess under him.

An attempt to wrap your arms around his neck again is struck down. Jumin’s fingers entwine with yours, only to shove them back into the covers near your head. You grip his hand back as hard as you can, but even that is too difficult. You feel weak, nails just barely digging into his skin as you melt beneath him.

“Jumin, Jumin…”

His name is all you have left and even that is swallowed by a sloppy and needy series of kisses. He’s hot in every sense of the word - smoking in appearance, warm in his loving gaze, and body making you sweat as it presses down on you.

“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Say more, more. Let me hear you, Ran. Every word, every breath, everything.”

You’d laugh if you could do anything but moan. How were you supposed to say anything like this? Somehow, you manage:

“I’m going to… cum, Jumin.”

“Then cum for me.”

With the gentle suggestion, the spring tightening hits its limit. Instead of letting up, Jumin moans and continues at his pace, words frantic on your lips. “Ran, yes, cum for me, say my name when you do…”

As if you had a choice.

“Jumin…”

His name is dragged out with your orgasm, the spring popping inside you, and every thrust of Jumin hitting you like a brand new release.

“Damn, Ran,” he groans.

His own orgasm hits - his hands shiver against yours, his head drops to your shoulder, and he gives one, final hard push into you that makes your toes curl and mind go blank. You can just barely feel him inside you, a slight movement and warm sensation filling you while Jumin sighs onto your lips. He gives a few lazy kisses that you just as languidly reciprocate before the world slowly turns again so you can catch up.

The strong grips on your hands loosen and Jumin remembers to breathe, hot breath tickling your neck as you both come down from an unfathomable high.

It’s still fuzzy when he lifts his head and his heated fingers massage your numb hands.

The only thing clear is his eyes peering down at you and a composed smile returning to his handsome face. He leans over to peck your forehead and you smile back.

“Well?” he asks.

You pause before answering. “On account of you still being inside me, I think, um, I get the message…”

He nods before you grin and add, “... tonight, anyway.”

Jumin flashes a disapproving frown before chuckling and moving his head to playfully nip your earlobe. Even that is overly sensitive, the sudden spark causing you to involuntarily jerk.

“Ah! Oh, Jumin… the conference call. We might be late.”

The haze is lifting. The rest of the world, just outside your bedroom door, seems a bit more promising. There’s a party to plan for the twins you’ve cared for and one for the charity coming soon. And for both, Jumin will be at your side.

He stirs before sighing, taking a moment to fully pull out of you - too slow to be disliked and too fast to be enjoyed - before laying at your side. Jumin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest and nibbling on your ear again. You jerk once more, stifling a moan, but Jumin holds you even tighter.

“Mm… Jumin, the call? What if they think we-”

“You’ve learned nothing from tonight,” he whispers teasingly, voice melting like honey along the delicate shell of your ear, “if you still think I care what others think.”


End file.
